


A Walk-On Part

by Nightdog_Barks



Category: House M.D.
Genre: Altered Mental States, Friendship, Gen, Hallucinations, Mayfield, Medical Procedures, Mental Breakdown
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-07-31
Updated: 2009-07-31
Packaged: 2017-10-18 07:24:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/186403
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nightdog_Barks/pseuds/Nightdog_Barks
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>House, unmoored in time and space at Mayfield, holds onto the only anchor he knows.  927 words.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Walk-On Part

**Author's Note:**

> The title and LJ-cut text are taken from the Pink Floyd song [Wish You Were Here](http://www.lyricsondemand.com/p/pinkfloydlyrics/wishyouwereherelyrics.html).

_**Ficlet: A Walk-On Part**_  
 **Title:** A Walk-On Part  
 **Author:** [](http://nightdog-writes.livejournal.com/profile)[**nightdog_writes**](http://nightdog-writes.livejournal.com/)  
 **Characters:** House, Wilson. Gen.  
 **Rating:** PG-13  
 **Warnings:** None.  
 **Spoilers:** Yes, for the Season 5 finale.  
 **Summary:** House, unmoored in time and space at Mayfield, holds onto the only anchor he knows. 927 words.  
 **Disclaimer:** Don't own 'em. Never will.  
 **Author Notes:** The title and LJ-cut text are taken from the Pink Floyd song [Wish You Were Here](http://www.lyricsondemand.com/p/pinkfloydlyrics/wishyouwereherelyrics.html).  
 **Beta:** My intrepid First Readers, with especial thanks to [](http://perspi.livejournal.com/profile)[**perspi**](http://perspi.livejournal.com/).

  
 **A Walk-On Part**

  
The sun goes out at precisely three fifteen on a Wednesday. A second later there's a bright, blinding flash, and everything that's plugged in dies. The contented burbling of the coffeemaker in the conference room, the almost subliminal buzz of the fluorescent lights, the low, constant hum of the hospital air conditioning, all fall silent. In the sudden darkness of his office, House waits for the emergency generators to kick in; when they don't, he hears frantic shouts from the even darker hallway, the sound of running feet, the discordant crash of people running into things they can't see. House sits quietly, allowing his eyes to adjust. There's the faintest hint of light coming in through the balcony windows, and when a shadowy outline appears at the office door, he recognizes it as Wilson.

"Hey," Wilson says. "You okay in here?"

"Of course I'm okay," House snaps. "Already got a cane -- give me a cup of pencils to sell and I'll be set for life." The barest gleam of white in the darkness, and House guesses Wilson is smiling.

"Don't you want a guide dog too? Dogs are chick magnets, you know."

"Knowing the dog I'd get, it'd lead me into traffic where I'd get run over by a truck."

The moment the words are out of his mouth, House wishes he could call them back. Wilson hasn't moved, though, so House keeps talking.

"Where is everybody?" he grumbles. "I thought Cuddy would be in here by now, asking what I had to do with this."

"Cuddy's walking home to take care of Rachel," Wilson says, and while that doesn't sound quite right, it _does_ sound like something she'd do.

"What about Foreman and Thirteen? Taub? Chase and Cameron?"

"I'm sure they're here somewhere, House," Wilson says patiently. "Except Chase and Cameron. They're on their honeymoon."

"Their honeymoon ... " House murmurs, and _that's_ not quite right either. He'd gone to Mayfield when they were married, they should be back by now ... he swivels in his chair and squints out the balcony doors. It's black outside, an unremitting midnight with no moon. "Is this is an eclipse?" he wonders.

"Let's go up on the roof. We can see better from there," Wilson says. Without waiting for House's answer, he turns and leaves. After a moment, House follows him.

The stairway to the roof is clear -- House supposes everyone wanting to get out has already gone down. It's dark, though, no hint of light penetrating the stairwell, and when Wilson finally pushes the fire exit door open, House takes the deep, gulping breaths of a man saved from drowning.

The only sounds that reach their perch are those of people calling to one another in the darkness below; the blackout stretches in all directions and the skies are clear to the horizon. Where the sun should be is a vacancy, a great blank spot against the vast expanse of space. The only light is from the stars -- never visible in the light of day, now an endless river of Van Allen belts and cosmic rays, solar winds and flux values. A streak of bright blue lightning blazes across the cloudless sky, then another, burning a searing afterimage on House's retinas. No thunder follows.

"EMP," House mumbles. "That's why nothing's working." He turns to Wilson, the shadow behind him. "Are we under attack?" he asks.

The corners of Wilson's mouth quirk upward. "No, House," he says. "We're not under attack."

House looks at the sky again; another bolt of jagged lightning splits the darkness, and he struggles to swallow against a suddenly dry throat. His teeth taste like plastic, the way they used to taste when he wore a mouth guard and played ... what? He used to play something, a team sport, in high school, and he'd bite down hard on the plastic guard so he wouldn't break his jaw or bite his tongue ...

None of this is right. His memories are scattering like dried leaves, driven before the storm.

 _I can't remember how I got to work this morning_ , he thinks. _I can't remember what I had for breakfast._

He sways and almost stumbles, the stars spinning like brilliant whirligigs in a gale; he's afraid he might puke all over Wilson's shoes, but then Wilson's arms are around him, holding him up, leading him away from the edge of the roof.

"Come on," Wilson murmurs. "Let's go sit down."

Between the two of them they make it back to the fire exit vestibule; House lowers himself gingerly to the floor, and after a moment Wilson joins him, stretching his legs out alongside House's.

It's uncomfortable down here -- the sharp edges of the gravel-surfaced roofing material poke into House's backside, but it's still better than falling into the abyss.

"What's happening to me?" House whispers.

Wilson's hand covers his, and as much as House thinks to throw it off, say something cutting about Wilson's girliness, he finds he doesn't really want to.

"Electromagnetic pulse," Wilson says, "remember? It was a big one, but everything will come back on-line in time."

The stars are going out, the electrical storm losing its intensity. The sky's lightening, but House can't tell if it's from the west or the east.

Wilson's grip is warm and solid and House holds on tightly, and as the sun bursts forth and the roof disappears into shadows, House keeps his eyes on the stars until the last one fades from sight and the air is filled with falling shards of brightness.

  
~ fin

  



End file.
